


The Seduction of the Chief

by anastasiapullingteeth



Series: Fire and Water [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3073148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastasiapullingteeth/pseuds/anastasiapullingteeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire has an annoying obsession with LOTR soundtracks that is driving Enjolras out of his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seduction of the Chief

**Author's Note:**

> Because once again Meeni saved me from the embarrassment of being ignored during a celebration, this time of the [30 followers of my fanfic blog](http://anastasiawritingfics.tumblr.com/post/105815002867/meeni-said-i-should-indeed-do-something-to), and this is what I came up with.
> 
> The title... I'm so funny... Anyway, enjoy!

The first time Enjolras heard the music, he didn’t pay that much attention. He was on his way to college early in the morning and, even when it seemed a little odd that someone were listening to the soundtrack of _The Lord of the Rings_ at seven in the morning, he wasn’t anyone to judge. He shrugged it off as he walked down the stairs, checking again he had everything he needed for the meeting.

The sound came from the door in front of his where Grantaire, his dark-haired roommate spent almost all his time. In the six months they’d lived in the same apartment, they’d barely spoken before; they saw each other from time to time in the kitchen and Enjolras had once received a package that was meant for the guy, and had later delivered to him with a small nod and a mumbled “You’re welcome.” Needless to say they weren’t exactly friends. But there was something about Grantaire that kept pulling at him, and sometimes he couldn’t stop staring at him when they coincided somewhere in the house. That was the main reason why he avoided him as much as he could.

He got to hear the music again a couple of times over the week. The guy was sort of passionate for it, something Enjolras didn’t really understand. He wasn’t fond of it, to be honest, it sort of reminded him of all those years where he was forced to go to church every Sunday with his grandma, and he couldn’t make out any of the lyrics. He tried to be civilized and let him do as he wished in his room, but there were times when he had to turn up the volume of what he was listening to because the noise was unbearable. It was about time for an intervention.

He tried to address him one night in the front door when he was getting home and Grantaire was leaving, as it seemed. He was tired of this moving aimlessly around Grantaire without exchanging a word or even an explanation as for why he hated him. So he brought together all his courage and stopped him before he could close the door behind him.

"Got a minute?"

Grantaire frowned, looking at Enjolras' hand on his arm. "Ah... sure?"

The blond ignored the void in his stomach and said. "Is there something you could do about the music? I can't concentrate very well."

"Sure, got it," Grantaire answered quickly and left the apartment.

 _Yes, that would do it_ , Enjolras thought.

But then, Grantaire simply went downhill with his obsession. He played the album over and over, and over again, every hour of every day, ‘till the point where Enjolras finally lost his temper. It wasn’t the music per se anymore, it was the fact that it didn’t have an end. It was there when Enjolras left the apartment in the morning, and then again when he was back at night. He’d heard it again during the weekend, and even that one time he woke up in the middle of the night when a bad dream pulled him out of his sleep. He was concerned about his classes and the fact that he’d hardly slept in the past week due to the constant noise coming from his roommate’s door.

"He’s an artist," Courfeyrac said between bites of Chinese food, during a late-night meeting of the Debate Society at Enjolras’ apartment. "He’s always covered in paint and his room smells like oil and turpentine."

"I won’t even ask how comes you know that, but that’s not an excuse for him to blow off his speakers at three in the morning with Gregorian chants."

"It’s not exactly Gregorian chants. It’s closer to opera, actually, with lyrics in the invented languages of Middle-earth that Tolkien-"

"Combeferre, you’re not helping me."

They all went back to work, but barely twenty minutes had passed when the music came back again. Enjolras grunted, squeezing the paper napkin in his hand as everyone else around him tried their hardest not to laugh. “He’s doing this just to annoy me!”

"Well, it could be worse, if you ask me. At least he has taste."

Enjolras directed a deadly glare to Jehan before going up his feet. He strode to the hallway and up to Grantaire’s room, but when his hand was clenched into a fist, ready to bang the door until the reckless man came out, the music suddenly stopped. He remained motionless with his fist a few inches away from the door; he could still talk to him and correct his behavior, but with the music gone, the action had lost its power. He then looked above his shoulder to his team, which was clustered in the hallway, and lowered his arm slowly as he returned to the living room. It was better if he waited for the next time. Preferably when none of his friends were witnesses to a potential murder.

 

***

 

Enjolras couldn’t believe he was thinking this, but he missed the music. He hadn’t heard it the rest of the week… he hadn’t even seen Grantaire, now that he thought about it. Was he… okay? Maybe he should go to check on him… Tomorrow. He could do it tomorrow, he had some things to work on with Combeferre first, he was busy, he didn’t have time for this.

"It’s really quiet here", Combeferre said as he handed him the report of their last meeting.

"He’s not at home. I think, I’m not sure," Enjolras added quickly, after seeing Combeferre’s smirk. "I haven’t heard anything from him in two days."

"You think he’s okay?"

Enjolras shrugged as he passed the pages. “I guess.”

But as the afternoon went by, Enjolras couldn’t stand the curiosity. He managed to hold it just an hour once Combeferre left his apartment, and after fighting with himself what would be the best way to approach a guy he’d barely talked to, he opted for improvising as soon as saw the guy. He unconsciously brushed off the invisible dust on his shirt and knocked the door.

There was no sound coming from the other side and, when the worry won over him, he wrapped his hand around the doorknob and turned it, sighing with relief as the door opened easily. The room was a mess. There were food wrappings scattered on the floor and a puddle of what seemed to be cold coffee next to a broken mug. Grantaire was lying in the middle of the room, arms and legs spread open as a sea star, almost entirely covered in stains of oil paint. Enjolras knelt next to him, holding his breath, and poked Grantaire’s side. The man giggled and tried to push Enjolras’ hand away. He was alive, at least.

"Wake up", he commanded, but Grantaire giggled again, trapping Enjolras’ hand between his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring at Enjolras with half-lidded eyelids, and smiled faintly. “Hey, handsome”, he whispered but as soon as he caught on the fact that he was holding hands with him, he dropped it hastily and crawled backwards. “Holy shit, is really you.”

Enjolras hoped Grantaire couldn’t see his blush and rose to his feet, offering a hand to help him up. “Uhm, yes? I live here, too, remember?”

"Y-yes, but I thought you were a f- What are you doing here?"

"I hadn’t heard from you in a while, came to see if you were still alive." He looked around him, from the broken mug to the few takeout containers on the floor, and the back to Grantaire. "Have you been locked up here since this Tuesday?"

"I went to the bathroom this morning."

"… You painted those?"

A few feet away, around fifteen canvases were leaning neatly against the wall. Some were covered with a sheet, but others were in plain sight; they were mostly landscapes - abstract scenes of Paris, Venice, and other European cities - but there was one different that was still drying off. Enjolras blushed at recognizing himself in the painting.

"You, uh, you did a good job with that one."

Grantaire turned to where he was looking at and practically ran to cover it with his own body. “No, eh, it’s not… you, it’s, uh, it’s nothing, it’s…”

"Grantaire looked away embarrassed so Enjolras decided to change the subject. "What’s all this?"

"Uh? Oh, finals week, I had a lot of work to do."

"That’s what the music was for?"

"Best way to beat down an artist’s block", Grantaire admitted with a shrug. He was still standing in front of Enjolras’ portrait as he tugged at one strand of dark hair. This was the longest they’d talked ever, if the awkward glances they exchanged could be considered talking.

"And... are you done with it?" Enjolras asked, but as soon as he saw Grantaire's distressed smile, he knew he wouldn't like the answer.

"Look, I'm aware this is annoying to you - I don't know why, you're missing the greatest soundtrack of all the time - so I'm willing to make a deal with you. I'll do anything you want as long as you let me keep working with the music, how 'bout that?"

"Anything I want?"

"Anything. I'll clean the bathroom, I'll go shopping, just ask and it's yours."

Enjolras considered it for a moment. There were a few tasks he'd been avoided for weeks that could be easily transferred to his roommate without feeling guilty. However, there was something he couldn't stop thinking about, so he decided to give it a shot. If Grantaire said no, he really wouldn't lose anything - except, maybe, his confidence.

"There's something I've wanted to ask you, actually." Grantaire nodded and Enjolras poured out weird sounds that didn't resemble words, at all. He wasn't used to feeling like this, he didn't know _how_ to do this, so he spat out what he wanted the fastest he could master. "Gowatchamoviewithme."

"A ... what?"

"Movie. With me... Please?"

Grantaire stared speechless and when Enjolras was about to deny everything, he said. "I assumed I would be the one punished here. I'd love to go with you," he added after he saw the uncertainty written on Enjolras' face.

Enjolras would let him work with that outrageous music, he will still hate it, he would probably buy earplugs to prevent himself from hearing it, except that now, he knew there will be a reward at the end of the road.


End file.
